9-20-21
The few wisps of clouds in the early morning sky are painted cotton candy pink. The full light of day hasn’t quite reached the ground yet. I’m putting off walking the dog or getting ready – though I’ve already built my to-do list a few times in my head. I sit at the dining room table, my forearms perched at the computer and sticking to the vinyl, fall-themed table cloth – which will come off as soon as my “company” leaves. My gaze drifts from screen to sky and back again. I’m not sure where my non-work head is this morning. I recently passed the two-year mark since starting this blog. As a celebration, I’ve thought about retiring it. I don’t have the time, energy, or motivation for it that I had a year and a half ago. I also wouldn’t mind disappearing for a little bit – which isn’t quite the right way to put it…
9-21-21
What am I doing here? That question has popped into my head up a few times between yesterday and today. Both in the specific sense and broad sense. Here: this house, town, job, career, blog, day and evening, these friends, that past, this present…. I’ve read some things related to Buddhism and spirituality that suggest our big mistake is in thinking there’s a purpose. At work, I’ve been mired in minutia – processes and procedures. It’s sometimes hard to see how any of it translates to helping people or making the world a better place.
I’ve been watching clips of Norm Macdonald on Conan. He tells these ridiculously long stories (that sometimes you can tell he’s making up as he goes). They have so little payoff, that it ends up being funny. My last post felt on the heavy side and some humor (watching Norm) has been appreciated. I haven’t really changed my diet of news.
9-22-21
Bright orange and red leaves confettied the street. It had just started to rain on our morning walk. Two streets away from the busy main street, everything was quiet except for the hum of a plane somewhere in the distance. It’s gray and if it weren’t for the hint of humidity this would be a classic fall morning.
This morning on the news they were talking about Afghanistan. We’ve seen the pictures of the hard, brown and tan rock mountains – a world of dust… and as I drove through the green hills of Pennsylvania I had trouble imagining that both of these places can exist in the same world. I suddenly felt how big and diverse this planet is. The story on the radio was about Russia and their war in Afghanistan. They interviewed soldiers, now much older. One of them talked about leaving the war behind – he said he talks fondly of, “what it means to make it home.” I feel like that should be the title of something – a collection of stories or poems.
I used to sing made-up songs to my cat Nicholas. They would be dumb nonsensical things. Maybe while feeding him I’d sing “someone likes food… and his name is Nicholas…” Tonight, I started to sing similar tune to the dog, except instead of saying Kimbrough, I accidentally (and unflinchingly) said Nicholas. I felt bad. I missed the cat and felt like I was somehow shortchanging the dog. It felt like I had just spoken an uncomfortable truth – the dog’s great, I’d like my buddy Nick back.